


I was born to love you

by smudgythoughts



Series: immortal space girlfriends [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Flowers, Fluff, IN SPACE!, Immortality, Lesbians in Space, Making Out, bisexual clara oswald, more like BISEXUALS and one Lesbian in Space, you get the picture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-23 19:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgythoughts/pseuds/smudgythoughts
Summary: Set immediately after 10x12. On a planet made entirely of flowers, Heather and Bill bump into Clara and Ashildr.





	I was born to love you

**Author's Note:**

> Have some soft space girlfriends

_Bill_

The first thing her brain registered was color. Brilliant, bold, color.

Red, yellow, blue, and all the other colors of the rainbow, like a pride parade in space. Stars exploding, and new ones being created from their exploded dust, an endless cycle of life. There were even colors that didn’t have names, that were inconceivable, _unimaginable_ , to the human brain.

But Bill wasn’t human, was she? The life had drained out of her on a cold table in a lonely spaceship, ten years after last laying eyes on the Doctor.

And yet here she was. Alive, for the most part, all because a cute girl with water abilities had a crush on her that transcended all of time and space. Sometimes Bill had trouble remembering this was real. Not the sci-fi part, because the Doctor had taken her on enough adventures to be familiar with aliens, but the fact that a girl Bill liked liked her back.

A hand gently squeezed hers, and Bill was back in the present again. She looked down and realized that, _oh_ , Heather was holding her hand. It felt like they’d been holding hands for millennia, no, _forever_ , that there hadn’t ever been a time when they _weren’t_ holding hands.

Heather seemed to notice her distraction. She glanced up at Bill, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better,” Bill answered honestly. “The only thing is… could we take this slow? I’m all for dates among the stars, but maybe we could built up to it?”

“Is it overwhelming?” Heather asked. When Bill nodded, she went on, “Sorry, I don’t have much basis for relationships.” She ducked her head shyly, and, not for the first time, Bill marveled at how cute her girlfriend was.

“Neither do I,” Bill said. “This is definitely the longest date I’ve ever been on. But… my girlfriend is some immortal space water pilot alien - _wait_ , we are girlfriends, right?”

“Yes,” Heather confirmed with a nod. “And I quite like it that way.”

Bill gave her a quick smile. “So my wonderful girlfriend is taking me on a spectacular, literally out-of-this-world date, but I still don’t know much about her. _Hell_ , I don’t ever know her full name. So maybe she and I could just _talk_ a little first?”

Heather gave her a mirroring smile, one that overtook her whole face and made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Well, if this is my _even more_ wonderful girlfriend asking me out on a date, then yes.”

Bill let out a huge sigh in relief, not wanting to admit how afraid of her rejection she’d been.

“So, where do you want to go?” Heather asked with a curious tilt of her head.

“A planet, first of all. Somewhere… pretty.”

 

Screw pretty. This place was absolutely, breathtakingly, _beautiful_. It was a planet made entirely of flowers, ones of all colors, like a makeshift galaxy in nature. The first thing Bill did, or second, after softly kissing Heather’s cheek in thanks, was to take a few pictures with her phone. Her queer followers on Instagram were going to _freak_.

Heather pulled out a blanket seemingly out of nowhere, and Bill was too busy being impressed to question her about the extent of her powers. _Like, could she conjure pizza out of thin air? Or did she still it from somewhere else, like Harry Potter and the accio spell? Did Bill have those powers too, now that she was temporary a water-creature?_ Bill shook her head, focusing on the present. She plopped down on the blanket, and Heather followed more gracefully.

They talked for a few hours, unless Bill got distracted by the way the corner of Heather’s mouth curved up when she smiled, and reached out to kiss her. That one soft kiss soon turned into a heated one, then into a full out make out session, with Heather nimbly climbing into her lap and cupping the sides of Bill’s face with gentle hands. Bill smiled into the kiss, letting Heather lead.

Finally, Bill called a break, and Heather pulled back, both of them breathing heavily. Their skin was covered with sweat, or an after-effect of their newly-found water powers. Bill brought pulled closer to Heather, and they rested their foreheads together, just smiling softly at each other.

A few minutes later, Bill stood up, two arms wrapping around Heather’s stomach to pull her up with her. Bill neatly folded up their blanket, Heather stepping aside so she could do so.

“Here, let me take that,” Heather said. When Bill handed the blanket over, it disappeared once again, leaving Bill staring at the now empty space in her hands curiously.

Bill shook away her disbelief, reaching over and taking Heather’s hand in hers once more. “Let’s just walk for a bit. Maybe see more of this wonderful planet.”

They only made it a few steps before Bill stopped in her tracks, squinting against the bright ray of the sun. “Is - Is that… a restaurant?”

 

_Ashildr_

Clara was dead. Her body spread out like a fallen angel on a cold cobblestone street.

Ashildr tried to not blame herself. But, oh, it was difficult. She had marked an innocent man with a tattoo of death just to get the Doctor’s attention. She couldn’t have known that brave little Clara would shift the death sentence over to herself. The Doctor - always weak when it came to letting things, people, go - brought her back.

Ashildr prided herself on her ability to not _feel_. On letting all those dead boyfriends and wives and significant others disappear out of her head like smoke. After the first few times, she wasn’t even able to muster up tears at their funerals. They were simply a tiny blip in her long, infinite, lifetime. But Clara was impossible to let go.

Clara was different. She was inquisitive. And deadly smart. And adventurous. And reckless. And fun. And utterly, absolutely, _breakable_.

She was frozen between one heartbeat and the next, forever a second from death. A misstep here or blunder there could result in her death, which Ashildr was far from ready for. That was why Ashildr always shied away when all she wanted to do was _touch_ , or forced herself to look away when all she wanted to do was _stare_. It soon proved to be a difficult rule to follow.

Like now, for instance.

The TARDIS - or Lucy, as Clara had nicknamed her after a night of one too many drinks - had landed them on a little planet called Florana. Clara had sprung right out of Lucy and started making herself at home, while Ashildr opted for leaning against the TARDIS doors and sorting through her thoughts.

The planet was beautiful, a compliment Ashildr handed out very rarely, considering how long she’d been alive.

There were flowers of all colors. Blue irises and larkspur; the rich depths of the ocean. Orange lilies and Californian poppies that reminded her of seeing a sunset on a beach in Brazil, the sky flooded with color. Yellow marigolds and sunflowers; paint haphazardly thrown across a canvas. Red roses and anemone like lipstick smudged on a napkin next to a hastily written number, that Ashildr took with a smile and threw away when the girl’s back was turned.

Then her eyes landed on Clara laid out in the field of flowers, and all she could think was, _oh_.

Clara was on her back, legs and arms spread out like she was making a snow angel in the flowers. She was wearing a blue summer dress that went to her knees, her long bare legs shining in the sun. Her brown hair was spread out behind her like a halo. On her face was a brilliant smile.

She was absolutely beautiful, an angel sent from the heavens. Ashildr had always known she was pretty, in an abstract sort of way. No, actually, that was a lie. Ashildr has known that Clara was beautiful in a part of herself that she’d shoved down deep inside. The small part that thought there was still hope for love.

Clara flipped onto her stomach, nuzzling her face in the flowers. She looked behind at Ashildr. “Hey, come over here, you lazy lump!” Clara called out, voice muffled from where her face was pressed into the flowers.

“Coming!” Ashildr said, voice laced with affection.

Ashildr left the sanctuary of Lucy, heading toward the other woman. Ashildr plopped down on the ground. She crossed her legs, leaned back on her elbows, her face centimeters from Clara’s, and gave her a small smile. Clara returned the smile, one that lifted at the corners of her lips, and all Ashildr could think was, _oh no_.

Clara pushed her elbows up on the ground, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on her folded hands. “You know, it’s quite strange riding around in a time travel machine named after the first girl I fucked.”

Ashildr squinted at Clara, thinking she’d misheard her. “What?”

“Lucy Somers. Back at Blackpool, in my early twenties. Though I suppose if we’re going chronologically, then Jane Austen is my first.”

She gave Clara an incredulous look. “Not _the_ Jane Austen?” When Clara nodded in confirmation, Ashildr sighed, thumping her hand against her forehead. “This is awkward.”

“Why? You know I’m bisexual, right?”

“Bitch,” Ashildr said affectionately. “You’ve checked out alien ladies too often to be straight. No, the issue here is that… uh…” She quieted, wondering how to best phrase her next words. Clara was looking at her with increasing worry, so she decided to just come out and say it. “I’ve also fucked Jane Austen.”

“Wait, REALLY?” Clara asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Ashildr confirmed. “It was in her earlier years. No, don’t give me that look, she was legal. Maybe late twenties.”

Clara squinted at her for another few seconds as if she was trying to figure out if Ashildr was messing with her. Ashildr tried to not think about how close their faces - more specifically, their lips - were. She failed.

Then Clara laughed; a soft, sweet sound. And laughed some more, her shoulders shaking with the effort. Ashildr cracked a smile, something she only seemed able to do around Clara, and let out a few laughs of her own.

Clara finally quieted, folding her arms together, and resting her head gently in its crevice. When she looked up, her face still bore the semblance of a smile. “Who knew Jane Austen was such a _slut_?"

“And here I though I was bad,” Ashildr said.

The conversation rose and fell like waves crashing against a beach.

They talked about their respective crushes and exes; female, male, and anything in between. They talked about different jobs they’d held, and Ashildr revealed that she’d attempted to be a teacher, only lasting a week before calling it quits. In response, Clara laughed at her, but it wasn’t a harsh laugh. No, it was one that made Ashildr feel happy and sad all at once. Happy because Clara Oswald laughing was the most beautiful thing in all of existence, and sad because Ashildr couldn’t have her.

Right now they were both lying down in the field, backs to the ground, eyes focused on the subdued lilac sky, bestrewn with wisps of lonely clouds. Well, at least _Clara_ was focused on the sky. Ashildr was currently studying the way Clara’s brown eyes shone in the sunlight.

Ashildr tried to not fall in love. But, _oh_ , it was difficult.

Clara reached out the hand farthest from Ashildr, cleanly plucking a yellow flower from the ground with deft fingers. If Ashildr wasn’t mistaken, it was a buttercup; a small flower with five circular petals. Clara held the buttercup up to her face, taking a long heavenly whiff, eyes fluttering softly.

“Hey, you’re sure that these flowers aren’t slowly killing us, right?” Clara asked.

“As sure as Ned Stark dying on Game of Thrones,” Ashildr replied. “So, yes, they _are not_ poisonous.”

“Good,” Clara said, “Though dying in a field of flowers wouldn’t be a bad way to go.”

Ashildr heart thundered in her chest. “You _aren’t_ dying,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

“Are you saying you care about me?” Clara teased lightheartedly.

She was saved from answering by a shouted “HEY” coming from her left. Ashildr jumped to her feet, dusting off the dirt and flower pollen from her gray pants. She spun around, eyes landing on two woman; one a black woman with an Afro, wearing a dark midnight dress and denim jacket combo, the other white, a good few inches shorter than her companion, wearing a bold red dress. Ashildr would’ve though they were human, if it wasn’t for the faint streams of water dripping down their chins, pooling onto the ground.

Behind her, Clara scrambled to her feet, and Ashildr unconsciously put herself in front of the other woman, her hand gripping Clara’s arm tight enough to bruise.

“Who are you?” Ashildr demanded, her fingers clenching, itching for a weapon.

The taller woman took a cautious step forward, holding her hands in front of herself in mock-surrender. “I’m Bill, and this is my girlfriend Heather. We, uh, come in peace.” She said humorously. When no one twitched a muscle, she went on. “I’m a friend of the Doctor, you may know him.”

Both she and Clara froze simultaneously. Ashildr turned to look at her friend.

“The - The Doctor?” Clara asked, eyes widening in disbelief.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to become a series, if I have time to write it! Next up is some angst, then a double date, then adopting a stray kitten


End file.
